Gambling for the Governess: A Victorian Romance (The Seven Curses of London Book 9) Read online

  Gambling for the Governess

  Book IX of The Seven Curses of London Series

  A Victorian Romance

  Lana Williams

  USA Today Bestselling Author

  Gambling for the Governess

  The Seven Curses of London Series

  By Lana Williams

  A gamble like no other...

  Amelia Tippin might be only a maid at the prestigious Beasley Governess Academy, but she knows she’s capable of more. When her Aunt Beasley dies before allowing her to attend classes, a desperate Amelia takes a gamble and applies for a governess position despite her lack of formal training.

  Christopher Easton, Viscount Beaumont, has but one mission—discover what or who caused the carriage accident that took both his sister and brother-in-law’s lives. Hiring a suitable governess for his niece and nephew who will also tolerate his eccentric—if brilliant—father will allow him to venture to the dark side of London to find the cause.

  With love as the prize.

  Christopher is more than intrigued by the new governess who has a way with the children as well as with his impossible father. He can’t resist her charms and sharing kisses has never been so delightful, but wariness lingers in her eyes, making him wonder at the cause.

  Amelia soon realizes that revealing the secret she holds places both her position and the connection quickly building between her and the handsome viscount in danger. Yet how can she hope for anything more with her deceit standing between them?

  When Christopher finds the man who stole the lives of his family, he must decide how much of a gamble he’s willing to take to win the heart of the governess.

  Other books in The Seven Curses of London series:

  TRUSTING THE WOLFE, a Novella, Book .5

  LOVING THE HAWKE, Book 1

  CHARMING THE SCHOLAR, Book 2

  RESCUING THE EARL, Book 3

  DANCING UNDER THE MISTLETOE, Book 4, a Novella

  TEMPTING THE SCOUNDREL, Book 5, a Novella

  ROMANCING THE ROGUE, a Regency Prequel

  FALLING FOR THE VISCOUNT, Book 6

  DARING THE DUKE, Book 7

  WISHING UPON A CHRISTMAS STAR, a Novella, Book 8

  RUBY’S GAMBLE, a Novella

  GAMBLING FOR THE GOVERNESS, Book 9

  Book 10 Coming Soon

  Want to make sure you know when my next book is released? Sign up for my newsletter.

  Table of Contents

  Other Books in The Seven Curses of London Series

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Epilogue

  Other Books By Lana

  About The Author

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  “There can be no doubt that the vice of gambling is on the increase amongst the English working-classes.”

  ~The Seven Curses of London

  VI. Betting Gamblers

  By James Greenwood, 1869

  London, April 1872

  Amelia Tippin carefully counted coins for the fare and handed them to the hansom cab driver, dismayed at how few she had left.

  The driver touched the brim of his hat as he pocketed them. “Shall I wait for you, miss?”

  She turned to look at the imposing facade of the mansion on Park Lane. The smooth, cream-colored exterior featured pilasters on either side of the entrance, a bow window, and small wrought-iron balconies on the upper level.

  No wonder the driver thought he should wait. Her simple grey gown and worn bag suggested she should use the service entrance rather than approach the front door. The nerves dancing across her middle agreed. However, she was not here to work as a servant but to interview for the governess position.

  Though tempted to have the man wait in case whoever answered that elegant front door saw through her lie and turned her away, she straightened and offered a polite smile. “No thank you. I’m to be the new governess here.”

  There. She’d said it out loud. If only that could make it true. What was the saying about hope springing eternal?

  “Good luck to you, miss.” The driver tipped his hat once more and pulled away, leaving her standing alone on the cobblestones.

  She lifted her chin, sternly reprimanding the nerves that threatened to hold her in place. Her father had been knighted for military service and her mother the daughter of a vicar. Under other circumstances, albeit unlikely, she might’ve been invited for tea by the lady of the house. She sighed. Very unlikely. Impossible even. What did it matter that not only had she never done such a thing but her previous position had been that of a maid?

  But it did matter.

  Amelia had yet to convince herself that she was qualified to be a governess. While she hadn’t formally attended the prestigious Beasley Governess Academy, she’d worked there for the past two years. She might have been wiping away coal dust and changing bed linens, but she truly had lived at the academy.

  More importantly, she’d spent every spare moment reviewing the material provided to the students on how to properly instruct children. She’d also listened in on as many classes as possible whenever her Aunt Beasley hadn’t been watching. It wasn’t as if she’d gone to work for her aunt without any education. She was one and twenty, after all. Her father, God rest his soul, had done his best to share all he knew before his death. She was well-read, thanks to the lending library, knew enough French to carry on a simple conversation, could draw passably well, had excellent manners, and surely would be able to teach two young children without faltering.

  Couldn’t she?

  Swallowing against the doubt that had accompanied her on the journey from Sedgwick to London, she lifted her bag and marched past the wrought-iron fence and up the steps only to startle when the front door opened before she could lift the gleaming pineapple brass knocker.

  The butler, a stern-looking man with grey hair, a thin face, and a slight hook to his nose looked her over from head to toe. “Yes?”

  Amelia cleared her throat. This part of her plan contained a large flaw—she had no appointment. There hadn’t been time to wait for Viscount Beaumont to reply with details of when he might wish to interview her. If he wished to interview her. Her aunt’s untimely death had set forth a chain of events that left Amelia in dire straits. Aunt Beasley’s will had instructed that the academy was to be closed immediately. Despite the fact that Amelia was her niece, and she and her mother were Aunt Beasley’s only relatives, she’d left them nothing. The academy was to be sold and the proceeds given to the Destitute Governess Fund.

  While Amelia normally applauded charity, she took issue with her aunt’s decision, especially since her aunt never made good on her promise to allow Amelia to attend the school. Amelia and her mother would soon be on the verge of entering the workhouse if she didn’t win this job. Her earnings from serving as a maid the past two years had barely been enough
to pay her mother’s rent.

  “Good day, sir. I am here to interview for the governess position.”

  The servant, dressed in a black suit much finer than her father used to wear, looked perplexed by her claim. “I was not aware of any appointment.”

  “Quite.” She nodded as if in agreement with him. “You see, I arrived in the city earlier than expected. The viscount’s letter suggested the unfilled position was a matter of some urgency, so I thought it best to come as soon as I was able with the hope that he’d be available to speak with me.”

  “I see.” Although his frown made it clear he didn’t.

  She offered a smile, hoping a friendly but firm attitude might win her entry. She would face additional difficulties once she crossed the threshold, but none of them could be addressed if she didn’t work her way past this first one.

  The butler didn’t return her smile but reached for her bag, much to her surprise, and gestured for her to enter.

  She stepped inside and drew a quick breath, a fresh wave of doubt giving her pause at the display of wealth in the entrance hall.

  Black and white marble tiles, crystal wall sconces, and tall white marble pillars created a grand entrance. A staircase swept upward with elegantly curved wrought-iron balusters. The chandelier that hung from an elaborate ceiling medallion glittered in the sunlight, sending hundreds of multi-colored reflections along the walls. A massive arrangement of flowers graced a carved mahogany side table and lent a sweet fragrance to the air.

  Amelia had never felt so out of place in her life.

  The butler led her past the dining room entrance and up the stairs. Amelia told herself to stop gawking. That would never do. If she were an experienced governess, she would have been in homes similar to this one.

  If.

  In truth, she wasn’t an experienced governess. Nor was she an actual graduate of the highly acclaimed Beasley Governess Academy. Nor did she have any references if the viscount requested them. The stakes of the risk she took struck her anew.

  As the butler left her to wait in the drawing room with its lovely hardwood floor, stunning area rug in vivid colors, tall ceiling painted with garlands, and rich mahogany furnishings, Amelia pressed a hand to her stomach. What had she been thinking? Of course the viscount would request references. He’d specifically mentioned his wish for an experienced applicant. How could she talk her way around that? He’d realize the truth and never hire her.

  Then what?

  She’d paid her mother’s rent with her last wages so only had enough money for a cab ride back to the train station. She couldn’t return to the academy as it had closed. Staying in her mother’s one-room flat would be her only option. But when the rent came due next month, how would they pay it without Amelia’s wages?

  Heart pounding, she teetered between fleeing before the viscount declared her a fraud and taking the chance of seeing the situation through.

  Before she could decide, the drawing room door opened to reveal an older gentleman of medium height and greying hair. His imposing features made him handsome despite his age. He frowned as he looked her over, much like the butler had, causing her stomach to plummet once again. He wore a fine wool suit with an intricately tied cravat. But much to her surprise, bright red velvet slippers with gold tassels took the place of his shoes. Her gaze held on the unexpected sight, trying to make sense of it. Was this man the viscount?

  “I understand you’re here for the governess position.”

  She dipped into a curtsy, realizing she’d nearly forgotten her manners. “I’m Amelia Tippin from the Beasley Governess Academy.” If possible, she didn’t want to lie. Omission of the truth was bad enough.

  The man studied her then walked in a wide circle around her, causing her to turn to follow his path until he stopped where he’d started. Then he did it again. This time she remained in place rather than turning to follow him, uncertain what to make of his odd manner. Fine white powder was visible on one lapel and one of his slippers.

  “I am the Earl of Rivenley,” he offered at last. “I believe you corresponded with my son.”

  Amelia had never met an earl and hadn’t expected to do so today. The urge to curtsy again came over her, but she stopped herself. Displaying proper manners would be an important part of her new position. “How nice to meet you, my lord.”

  He gestured toward a chair, and she perched on the edge of the seat as he sat in the chair nearby. “Miss Tippin, what is your opinion on games for children?”

  She hesitated, confused by the question. Aunt Beasley had drummed into her students the importance of teaching children self-control, obedience, and discipline. She’d been a firm believer in plain meals and austere surroundings for young children. A governess was to be a model of appropriate values and behavior. There had never been any mention of games.

  Was this some sort of test or did the earl want the children to enjoy their free time? Did she dare answer honestly or did she act as if she embraced her aunt’s opinion?

  “I believe children should play games for both their mental and physical wellbeing. If learning can be added along with the game, all the better.” Aunt Beasley was surely stirring in her grave at Amelia’s response.

  The earl gave no indication of whether he approved of her answer but rose to pace before her, hands clasped behind him, the tassels on his red slippers swinging with each step. “Do you agree with the idea that children should be seen and not heard?”

  Amelia considered how best to answer, uncertain what he wanted to hear. These questions had never been covered in the lessons she’d overheard. Since the earl gave no hint as to his preference, she hoped honesty would benefit her. “I believe children are people and deserve to be heard. However, good manners are important to make certain they only speak when appropriate. Of course, I would do my best to follow your instructions on the matter.”

  He stopped and faced her, tapping a finger against his chin as if pondering her answer. “Do you enjoy conversing with children?”

  This question she could answer easily. “Yes, I do. I find the workings of their minds fascinating. They view experiences with fresh eyes full of wonder.” While she had limited experience with children, she’d met several from the local village as well as children of the workers who were occasionally hired to make repairs at the academy. She liked children though she didn’t think that was a requirement as a governess. From what she’d overheard, many of the women attending the academy didn’t care for them.

  “Hmm.” He shook his head as if disappointed with her answer, causing her heart to trip.

  She didn’t want to appear desperate, but she needed this position. “Viscount Beaumont mentioned in his letter the children’s ages are five and seven?”

  The earl nodded. “Charlotte is the eldest.”

  The letter had also noted the children were his niece and nephew. She couldn’t help but wonder where the children’s parents were, and why the earl was interviewing her rather than the viscount. But it wasn’t her place to ask.

  “Do you have a young man courting you?” The man pulled a coiled wire from his pocket and examined it briefly before tucking it away again.

  “No, my lord.” She had no means to enter Society with the hope of finding a husband. In truth, she’d been too busy caring for her frequently ill mother and stretching the few coins they had before she’d moved to the academy to think about marriage. Now she relied on a kindly neighbor to check on her mother, whose questionable ‘illnesses’ had occurred less often once Amelia was no longer there to offer comfort. Marriage was a faded dream she no longer wished for.

  “Who is your father?”

  “Sir Albert Tippin. He passed away when I was fourteen years of age. My mother is the daughter of a vicar.” Though that placed her on the fringes of Society, it was important all the same.

  “Humph. Left you penniless, eh?” Before she could respond, he cleared his throat and returned to his seat. “The children are precious to me.
Very precious. You see, they’re all I have left of my daughter.”

  Amelia’s heart tugged as grief washed over his expression. “I’m terribly sorry for your loss.”

  “Both she and her husband have been dead over a year now.” The Earl of Rivenley blinked back tears. “The children might appear to be fine, but they’re still grieving. Adjusting. We all are. That is why the governess position is of great importance to our household.”

  “I see.” The sight of the lord swamped by memories of his daughter brought a lump to her throat. “That’s the reason the viscount mentioned the need for an experienced governess.”

  “Indeed. Not just anyone will do. We’ve already endured two failed attempts.”

  Amelia dropped her gaze, hope fading as she realized she couldn’t go through with her plan. “I must apologize for wasting your time. I actually do not have any experience. Nor do I have any references.” She forced herself to meet the earl’s hazel eyes as she told him the truth. “My aunt ran the Beasley Governess Academy where I worked as a maid. While I truly do believe myself qualified to teach children, I’m not the applicant you requested. Again, I’m very sorry for your loss.” She rose to take her leave as panic threatened at the death of yet another hope. If she could escape before the sobs bubbling inside her gained freedom—

  “Wait.” The earl stood as well, scowling as he studied her for a long moment. “If your aunt ran the school, why didn’t you attend it?”

  “Aunt Beasley insisted she didn’t have any open positions at the time and said if I wanted to wait for one, I’d have to work. The only job she had available was that of a maid.” She hated the hot rush of shame she felt at the admission. She was well aware of the reason behind her aunt’s decision. Aunt Beasley had been intent on teaching her a lesson as to the value of money. But Amelia had learned that even before her mother had gambled away what little her father had left them.

  “Why do you think yourself qualified to teach children?”

  “My father was an excellent teacher if a bit untraditional. I learned much from him before he passed. I read any book that came my way after that. Once I moved to the academy, I studied the materials and listened to many of the classes when my duties permitted it.”